Assessments Atypically Ravenclaw
by whitesakura-rain
Summary: Should I rejoice that we have solved the mystery, and have thus retained our lives? Or should I bemoan the fact that both of us are effectively out of action, and are thus now unable to warn the others? A Penelope Clearwater HoH Challenge fanfic.


Mini Author's Note: This Penelope fanfic is written (more than one year late) in response to Veritaserum's bajab's (17/09/05) The Houses of Hogwarts challenge. The second of four installments (one for each House of Hogwarts) where the protagonist needs to exemplify the characteristics and traits of the chosen house, this story revolves around Percy's girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, whom I picked as heroine of the tale over Cho Chang because the latter is too un-Ravenclaw-ish for my motives. No insults intended. Don't worry; the rules say that it needs to be a short story, so you won't have to suffer prolonged torture from my crazy mind—I hope. I'm writing about Penelope because I'm interested in the 'alternative viewpoints' that JKR doesn't insert into her books and enjoy designing plausible (and maybe not so plausible) excuses for certain minor characters' behaviour throughout the series. So, um. Enjoy?

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. So don't give me any unnecessary grief or credit for that humungous piece of work.

Disclaimer 2: The paragraph on basilisks is taken from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Only the accompanying picture is by me!

Requesting: Criticism (to stop me from being weird) Volunteers, anywhere?

PC--Ravenclaw--Hogwarts--Ravenclaw--PC

**Assessments Atypically Ravenclaw**

**-The Customary Astuteness of Ravenclaw-**

The blue-bronze dormitories become a lot more silent as Davies, Bradley and Chambers leave while excitedly discussing the upcoming Quidditch match. I wait a few more moments, straightening my prefect's tie, and then resolutely push open the portrait-exit.

The boys' animated voices still manage to float back my way. _Boys and Quidditch. In two words, noise pollution. And they say that girls chatter._ I shake my head as I climb out of the portrait hole, leaving a near-empty common room behind me, and walk towards the left where their shoulders, then heads can be glimpsed disappearing down the stairs.

A strange disquiet has been tugging at me all morning, as if some hidden sixth sense is trying to warn me that something bad will soon happen. I fear that I know what it is, and it is not something pleasant.

It is 1993, and I am in the middle of my fifth year.

The teaching year is tremulous this year. Left and right, people are floundering, like birds caught in a violent storm. Other than memories of last year's strange end-of-year leaving feast, wherein Slytherin was stripped of the house cup in favour of Gryffindor's unexpected gain of points, this year the Chamber of Secrets has been reopened.

Thankfully, no deaths have occurred up to this time, though a cat, a ghost, and two students have so far been petrified—feline Mrs Norris, Gryffindor's ghost Nearly-Headless Nick, Gryffindor first-year Colin Creevey, and Hufflepuff's Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Penny!" A calm, stately voice swirls my head briefly, knowingly, as I start to descend the spiraling stairs of Ravenclaw Tower.

"Lady," I smile in greeting to the Grey Lady as she comes through a wall and glides beside me down the stairs.

"I've asked the other ghosts as you requested, and there are murmurings that the Chamber might contain a basilisk." She holds her head high as always, and I don't try to look up to see her facial expressions as she tells me this. It is far from wise to put attention elsewhere when moving on uneven ground, and she's always been too tall for me to do that in comfort when we walk together in close quarters anyway.

"A basilisk?" I ask instead; curiosity piqued. Quickly I run through everything that I've ever read concerning the near-mythical creature, then point out an important hole in this theory. "But if I remember correctly… doesn't its glare kill instead of petrify?" An owl hoots and wings it way to the owlleries as we pass by a window. I spare it an absent look. _More gossip from one mill to another, _I think with resignation. _At the rate that panic is spreading, Hogwarts will soon be ordered to close down for investigations._

The serene voice brings me back to the present.

"That's what I thought," her robes rustle faintly as she shrugs. "Yet it's the most possible 'horror within' that has been raised. The other theories are equally, if not more, farfetched—an acromantula was suggested by some ignorant fellow, and you know that these overgrown creatures eat their victims. They wouldn't have left those poor students whole! Besides, the Basilisk Theory corresponds with Myrtle's dying the last time the Chamber was open, and communication with snakes was certainly one of Founder Salazar's special abilities, which fits in rather well with the whole legend."

I nod carefully, deep in thought. My unexplainable restlessness grows, and I think that there might be something in these 'murmurings' after all. _Wouldn't hurt to check, anyway._

We reach the base of the steps, and some Gryffindors who shouldn't be in this West area of the castle stroll past, feigning casualness. I quirk my brow at them, and they turn around automatically to escape before I deduct house points from them. They're probably another group of students who have been asked by the Pranking Twins to scout for good places to spring traps on unsuspecting Ravenclaws. I resist the impulse to groan. _Why on earth do Perce's brothers have to be so impossible?_

"The castle is emptying fast," remarks the Grey Lady. "Will you be going to the match too? Your young man is expecting you, isn't he?" The Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game is today, and my boyfriend Percy Weasley has invited me to watch it together with him—minus his family. _Thank goodness. A whole afternoon of sitting with the terrible twins? I'd be on tenterhooks and watching out for tricks every second._

"I'll make my entrance after I look up basilisks." I grin and flick a few curls away from my face. My unease, I hide. It is my own problem, and it wouldn't be in-character for me to throw it to someone else to solve. _Ravenclaws are the thinkers who act too, after all. We are the hunting owls. Therefore anything that has to do with basilisks, whether useful or otherwise, I'll have to search out--especially ways on defeating one._

"Hungry for knowledge as always—the perfect Ravenclaw," smiles the Grey Lady as she stops at a T-junction and I turn to look up at her, wondering with a jolt if I had said that last thought out loud. "Go on, then, but you'd best be careful around the halls. Ever since those two dreadful incidents took place, all the other ghosts have been warning me that our house will be next."

Apparently, I had not. "I will." I also know that my risk is higher than the average student, because I am one of the few Muggle-borns currently still in Hogwarts. I give her a polite nod, and then walk towards the Great Library with the faint murmur of "a child after my own heart" reaching across the air, towards me.

PC--Ravenclaw--Hogwarts--Ravenclaw--PC

I am almost mowed-down by Hermione Granger as I enter the library, so rushed is she in going in.

"Omigod I'm so sorry!" she says in a rush, halting breathlessly. "Are you alright?"

"Mm." I recover quickly from my forward-stumble. She obviously doesn't know who I am, and I don't see any need to inform her. She'll be able to find out easily enough if she wants to anyway; my tie and badge are out on display for anyone who cares. "Not going to the match?" I ask with some interest mingled with surprise. After all, she is a Gryffindor, and her best friend Harry Potter is their team's seeker. Other than that, if Perce is any example of his brothers, I'm willing to bet that the last member of the Golden Trio—Ron Weasley (as well as the Pranking Twins and little Ginny Weasley) will be equally eager to see the match commence. Surely she would be expected to be out there at the stands with them now?

"Last-minute research," she says simply, a brief smile on her lips. To anyone else but a Ravenclaw, that excuse would probably be incomprehensible. But then, in the face of a long-awaited house match, none other than Ravenclaws would even think to be in the library now either, so her very presence would in actuality be incomprehensible to most—if they'd been here to see it.

I nod to that, then make my way to Madam Pince first and ask her where I can find information on basilisks. She turns and rustles some pages to scan through the indexes.

"Basilisks? You too?" Granger asks in surprise, and I look at her to see a face chagrined at having blurted out the question like that. _Yet she might be more annoyed at not having construed a legible sentence._ I hide a laugh at that sudden notion.

"Looking up monsters for the Chamber?" I ask in return, and get an affirmative nod in return. "Well, well," I muse, "looks like there might be something in that then, if even you are looking them up." _After all, she is widely acknowledged to be the smartest witch in this year's batch of second-years._

She tries to hide a pleased smile, taking it as a roundabout compliment, perhaps. I do not say anything.

We follow the librarian's instructions to a moldy corner of the shelves and look at the single tome before looking calculatively at each another.

"We can read together," I say finally, and she nods again.

Setting the book down on the nearest table, she stands by and lets me do the page-flipping. The book is very old, its writings a little faded. Having more experience with this sort of book, though, I manage of quickly locate what we're looking for.

'_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'_

On the page left to it is a flowing depiction of an oversized snake, its body rising from the broken remnants of an egg, venom dripping from two large fangs, and golden eyes fixed upon the text on the right.

"Roosters," I repeat flatly, remembering seeing Hagrid the gameskeeper with a dead one around the same time as Finch-Fletchley was attacked. _So whoever opened the chambers killed the rooster as well? It would be understandable. They wouldn't want their pet basilisk to be so easily killed._

"Spiders," Granger says in an equally dead tone as her face shutters off minutely. I take it that she has seen spiders acting strangely, but do not pursue the question. _Just accept that there's a link there._

My mind leaps. _All the hints point in the same way, yet there is nothing in the text that reads of petrifying abilities; only killing ones. What has occurred to form the difference, then?_ A short silence stretches, and then I find myself saying hesitantly. "If something happens to block, absorb or redirect the brunt of the basilisk's glare, would it result in petrification to a victim instead of death?"

Granger's frowning, absorbed head snaps up to that. "If another person were between them, there would be one dead and one… wait; Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin." She blinks to my affirmative nod.

"Fried camera and Creevey," I add, hammering another nail in the coffin of this theory. _That kid doesn't know how lucky he was. None of them do. But will the next victim be as lucky?_

"Of course…" Granger breathes, seeing instantly how the film and lens would have absorbed the majority of the gaze's lethality.

Silence falls once more as we each try to locate a medium for the first of the petrification attacks.

Rays from the sun reflect off the face of my watch, and I blink. Reflections could work. _The unused bathroom had been flooded—so the deflector was…_

"…Water!" we exclaim together, and I know that my guess is true. Elation spreads its wings and soars towards the skies.

"A watch?" she then comments as she looks at mine, attention caught, a brow lifted.

I shrug her way. "Muggle-born," I explain nonchalantly, knowing that she is one as well. Calls of 'Mudblood' had been heard directed her way too many times for me to miss that fact. She gives me a quick smile of comradeship, and I angle my head in a return gesture.

"So the first time it was Mrs Norris and the flooded bathroom, next Colin with his camera, and lastly Nearly-Headless blocking for Justin," she summaries bossily.

"Have you thought of a way the basilisk could be getting around the castle?" I enquire. _The sewage?_

A triumphant grin is flashed. "Through the pipes, of course."

Close enough. "Of course," I echo. I give a wry smile. "So we're not safe wherever we go. Next time, who'll it be?" _Probably me, I guess. Slytherin has no Muggle-borns._ The knowledge clamps its black-tipped claws painfully on me, as heavy as the eagle of my house's denominating animal.

She grimaces right back. "Pessimist," comes the accusatory mutter.

"Pragmatist," I shoot back. _Level-headedness is what will keep us all alive._ I think furiously on ways to protect the students. A drawback of being a prefect, I suppose. "I don't have a camera like Creevey does or a handy ghost like Finch-Fletchley, but…" getting an idea, I rummage in my robes. "Tadaa!" I pull a small item out with a flourish, the sun rays catching it, letting it flash brilliantly.

She blinks. "That would work," she comments.

I stand up. "Come on, I'll escort you back to Gryffindor while you fetch yourself a reflector. Then we'll have to inform the other Muggle-borns." _Hogwarts protects its own. The students must be protected at all costs—otherwise the heir's aim will be accomplished. I will _not_ allow such a thing to happen!_

"Right," she pushes her chair back as well, then pauses and narrows her eyes at the page. Looking around the room swiftly, she darts her hands out and rips free from its bindings the page on basilisks, whips out a pen, and scribbles down a word on the margin of the paper scrap.

"Granger!" I exclaim, horrified at her actions. "That's a very old, very rare book!" _Tearing and writing on it just like that… it is an utterly criminal disrespect, desecration and sacrilege of knowledge! Pure vandalism!_

She gives me a guilty-cross look. "I'll _reparo _it later," she states in a tone of defiance. "I need to show Harry this."

_Harry the suspected criminal; Harry the parseltongue; Harry the-boy-who-lived; Harry her best friend. _

I sigh. "Make sure you do, or I will personally make sure that this is repaired _and_ take multiple points off of Gryffindor." I give her a warning glare, and she gives me a placatory smile. I am not impressed.

We replace the tome and step out of the library. I throw out an arm to stop her as she makes to turn right. "Wait," I insist, and hold out the mirror to check that side. "I remember pipelines near there."

She rolls her eyes. "It's broad daylight and just outside the library! I hardly think that the basilisk would be slithering around at this hour." But she hovers at my shoulder and looks into the mirror too anyway.

I swivel it carefully, in the way that a hunting owl might. Side to side, then the closest other surface.

_Wall, floor, wall, ceiling, wall…_ "That should be about it…" …_golden eyes on a familiarly reptilian face_. _Golden _basilisk_ eyes._

PC--Ravenclaw--Hogwarts--Ravenclaw--PC

_So, the big mystery is now solved,_ I think distractedly as I feel myself crumpling to the ground. _Should I rejoice that we have solved the mystery, and have thus retained our lives? Or should I bemoan the fact that both of us are effectively out of action, and are thus now unable to warn the others?_

I wonder, and then darkness engulfs my consciousness.

_Both, I think. I hope Perce doesn't get too anxious when I don't show up. I hate it when people worry for me._

My awareness tucks itself behind the wings of the basilisk's gaze. Knowing fuzzily that my mind is trapped in time, I allow myself to lie floating on an eternity of nothing, and stop wondering.

_Hogwarts will protect its own—somehow. Others will see what we have seen, and there will still be hope. Slower than it would have come, but eventually still. There will nevertheless be hope._

PC--Ravenclaw--Hogwarts--Ravenclaw--PC

**-END-**

Author's End Note: So far the only three fanfics I've written are on P-named people—Petunia, Peter, and Penelope. Does this mean that I have a P-fetish? Lol. So… what does everyone think of this? By the way, of my three fanfics, I like this one best!

Random: Reposted this chapter so that I could add a few sentences here and there.


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